King's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (28 page)

“Yeah, I guess you’re
right.”

An ambulance speeds
by the window, drawing our attention back to the parking lot with its red and
blue flashing lights.

I slide my hand to
the back of my neck and sigh.
     

“Now I just need to
get out of this this damn business without getting us all killed.”

Sebastián turns to
look at me hard for a long time before turning to look out the dark window
again.

His cold, skeptical
eyes drain me of the adrenaline high I’ve been riding since Holland delivered.

Getting out of the
drug business is proving to be much more difficult than I’d anticipated. There
is no one left of the Romero family to handle the business, only me. We have
the largest, most intricately orchestrated importation of illegal high quality
drugs coming into the United States and Europe. The people I deal with trust me
because my name is synonymous with a smooth, uncomplicated business. My father
was equally feared and respected in his industry. He developed a relationship
with the law in the countries he distributed to, and they trusted no one but
Arturo Romero—now that he’s dead, they trust his son. They hold me to a
certain standard. They expect things, demand things that only the Romero name
can deliver. I’ve been trying to find a way out ever since I found out Holland
was pregnant, but so far nobody’s budging. They want my drugs, my connections
and my protection.

“Go get some rest,
and love on those two ladies.” Sebastián grabs me in a one-armed hug that lasts
too long. He stands there squeezing me for a while, slaps my back, and then he
pushes me away. The whole thing felt very foreign. Sebastián doesn’t hug. He’s
not the touchy feely, chatty type at all, but then again, I’ve never had a baby
either, so . . .

“Thanks. I will.”

“I’ve gotta go get
Candy before she blows her cover. She’s a sucker for babies.”

I hired Candy as my
personal assistant, but Holland’s never met her, and I’d like to keep it that
way for now. I found out after my flight with Candy and after Sebastián came
clean about their relationship that she was my father’s private bookkeeper. She
somehow lost her job when we restructured after my father’s death. Sebastián
couldn’t help her because no one knew they were together. My father had a
strict rule about mixing business with pleasure. He forbade it under any
circumstances.
    

Candy knows the drug
business from the inside and she’s street smart, but she’s kind and loving and
motherly . . . just the kind of person Holland would love.

I need her and
Juliette as far away from anyone associated with my family as possible if I am
going to keep them alive. Candy’s just too close. She knows too much, and she’s
an asset that enemies would love to destroy, and that’s why Sebastián is the
perfect match for her. He keeps her safe. It’s also why I don’t want her
associating with Holland.

Back in our hospital
room, I slip off my shirt and shoes, leaving my suit pants on, and slide in
behind Holland. She doesn’t move a muscle, and her hand is still
laying
on a very sleepy Juliette. This might be as close to
heaven as I’ll ever get, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it while I can.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Holland

“I have a surprise
for you.” Oh brother, another surprise. He’s already given me a car this month,
and last night he gave me the most beautiful platinum charm bracelet with a
tiny violin covered in diamonds, a bow, and three circular charms, each with
our first initial on it, H, K, and J. I’ve no idea how he managed to get a J
charm for Juliette. He hasn’t left my side for a second since she was born. It
wouldn’t surprise me if he had the entire alphabet of charms in one of our bags
somewhere. He’s a planner. Now he has something else, and I can’t imagine what
it could possibly be. Just when I’m about to find out, Mama strolls through the
door and right up to Juliette’s bassinette like granny of the year.

“How’s my sweet
little angel pie today? Are you all ready to go home with Mama and Daddy? Yes,
you are. I know you are.” She’s talking baby talk to my daughter . . . baby
talk. My mother, who always made fun of people that baby talk to their
children. She would say to speak to them like an adult, and they will speak
properly to you when they grow up.

 
Who is this woman?

“Yes we’re about to
go home, Gloria. I was just getting ready to talk to Holland about that. In
fact, could you give us a moment?” King says. Mama nods, giving him a knowing
look.

“Of course! Sure,
sure. I’ll wait in the hall.” She leans over Juliette’s bassinette again and
makes the scariest face I’ve ever seen. “Granny will be right back, snookum
wookums.” She makes big, fat kissy lips and opens her eyes wide several times
before tweaking Juliette’s cheeks and exiting the room.

“What the hell . . .
no, wait.
Who
the hell was that?” I
point at the closed door, where some deranged version of my mother just exited.

“Your mom is
something else, that’s for sure,” King says, rolling his eyes. What’s a snookum
wookum?”

“Uh, you got me. Mama
doesn’t believe in baby talk, so I don’t know where the hell that came from.
She seems to know something about my surprise, though, which makes me much more
curious . . . and worried. You told her and not me?”

King has been folding
clothes and putting them back into my overnight bag while I put all the flowers
and gifts onto a cart to roll out to the car. There are so many flowers from so
many people, most of which I don’t know. These are expensive arrangements. Some
are plants and flowers I’ve never seen before. King knows a lot of people, and
most of them are rich and spared no expense.

“Your mom had to
know. I needed some help.”

“Help with what? What
are you up to, King?”

“Well . . . I don’t think
it’s appropriate for a baby to live above a nightclub. I didn’t like my
pregnant girlfriend living there either, but I needed some time.”

“Time?”

“To build you a
house.” King crosses the room and stands so close to me that I have to tip my
head back to see his face, but he doesn’t touch me.

“You built me a . . .
a house?” I don’t know what to say. I am totally at a loss for words.

“Yes.”

I still cannot speak.
He’s done some pretty elaborate things for me, but this . . . Building a house
is probably nothing to King. He’s got more money than he knows what to do with.
But it’s a big deal to me. I’m stunned.

“Holland?” King’s big
hands wrap around my arms and he gently shakes me. “You okay, baby?”

I answer by nodding
my head up and down as my eyes fill with hot tears. For forty-eight hours
straight, I have felt like an emotionally unstable nut job. Everything makes me
cry, and it’s starting to piss me off. King pulls me into his arms, and I’m
surrounded by the earthy scent of his new cologne. I didn’t think he could
smell better than he already did, but somehow he does.

“You smell so good.”
I moan against his chest and he chuckles.

“Glad you like it.
Are you okay with the house thing? I just wanted you to have a real home, ya
know?”

I look up at him and
nod. “Yes, of course. I don’t know why I never thought about it. Actually, I
haven’t thought about a lot of things, like where’s the nursery going to be,
where will she go outside to play, what about clothes and diapers . . . oh my
God, King, I’m going to be a terrible mama. I can’t do this. What was I
thinking?” The tears that were welling in my eyes race down my cheeks, only to
be followed by another set and another until I’m full on sobbing.

“Hey now, stop,
you’re a great mother already, baby, a natural. I never mentioned any of those
things because you had so much on your plate with the pregnancy and keeping up
with your practicing. But the beauty of that is that it’s all done. She has a
nursery filled with everything she needs. Don’t cry, baby, come on. Let’s get
outta here so I can show you.”

When I’m done
blubbering and my nose is red and sore from the scratchy hospital tissues that
I’ve used way too many of, a nurse arrives to wheel us to the car. She shows us
the proper way to secure Juliette’s seat in the car and how to buckle her into
the seat to keep her safe.

King watches her
every move with narrowed eyes. He’s memorizing how to secure the baby, but he’s
also being a protective daddy. His hands twitch and he instinctively leans in
closer a couple of times when he thinks the nurse doesn’t have a good hold on
Juliette, but of course she does. I love watching him, and I’m glad he’s paying
such close attention, because I haven’t heard a word the nurse has said.

She, however, has
been very attentive to King, answering all of his questions and encouraging him
to try the buckles himself, which coincidently brings him into the back seat,
brushing up against her. King is oblivious, though he only has eyes for
Juliette and me.

I love it when he
makes that abundantly clear, planting a passionate kiss on my mouth right as
nurse flirty pants finishes up with the baby. I swear I heard her tsk as she
walked away, pushing my wheelchair. With Juliette all buckled in, Mama closes
the trunk and slides into the front passenger seat next to King, and I ease
myself into the back next to Juliette.

“We’re going home,
little miss,” I say, watching her scrunch up her little face and stick out her
bottom lip. I can’t believe how much love I feel for this tiny human that I’ve
only known for two days. It’s overwhelming.

So many things are
changing, and they aren’t little things either. They’re major things like
adding a person to my family, driving, and now moving. It’s probably weird, but
I’m going to miss the apartment. It’s where I had my first experience with King
and where I spent most of my pregnancy. I also made friends with several
waitresses and bartenders when I was bored and King was working in the club.
I’d sit at the bar just outside the apartment and drink virgin drinks that my
favorite bartender, Samantha, invented just for me. Everyone was nice, of
course, because King is their boss, but Samantha and James were genuine. They
really seemed to take an interest in me. James worked opposite shifts from
Samantha, but James and I didn’t get a lot of time to chat. King was always
suddenly done working and ready to go back to the apartment when James and I
were talking.

“Are you excited,
baby? Wait until you see the nursery. I’ve had such a fun time decorating it. I
mean, when you don’t have a budget, everything is fun. I didn’t know she was
going to be a girl, of course, so I started with grey and chose pink and teal
accents for a girl’s room and yellow and navy for a boy. I went by this morning
and added all the little girly things and oh, it’s just precious.” My mama is
gushing about a baby room for a baby she never wanted me to have. Something is
seriously wrong here. No way did she suddenly decide having a grandbaby was the
best idea in the world.
Something’s up.

“Mama.”

“Yeah, sweetie,
what?”

“Why are you so
excited about the baby and her room? You wanted me to have an abortion,
remember? You didn’t want a granddaughter. You wanted a professional
violinist.”

She looks at King,
but his eyes never leave the road.

“Holland, baby, I
think your mother is trying to make amends.” His eyes say ‘hush’ when they meet
mine in the rearview mirror.

“Holland, I never
said I wanted you to have an abortion. I was just disappointed that you
couldn’t go to Juilliard.”

“Okay, whatever,
mama.” I lean down and whisper to Juliette “I swear your dreams will always be
just that . . .
your
dreams.” She
struggles to keep her little eyes open, but she can’t, and she’s out again.
This kid sleeps a lot.

Twenty minutes later,
we are driving down a lovely street with established trees and large Victorian
homes. I thought King said he built the house, not that I mind. I love every
single house on this block. The ride has been uncomfortable and quiet since I
confronted Mama about her newfound interest in Juliette, but I’ve decided not
to start anything, so I keep quiet. While gazing at Juliette, I feel the car
turn into the driveway of our new home. Just like the rest of the houses on the
block, this one is a picture perfect Victorian home with an enormous
wrap-around porch, an octagon shaped column on one side, angular rooftops, and
scalloped siding. When the car pulls to a stop under a stone carport covered in
lavender
Bougainvillea Spectabilis
vines, I cover my mouth with my hand. It’s a total southern fairytale. It
wouldn’t surprise me at all to see little winged creatures fluttering around in
the
garden,
dancing on flower petals and playing hide
and seek. King turns around and stretches his lean, muscular forearm across the
back of the passenger seat.

“So, what do ya
think?”

I drop my hand into
my lap.

“I think . . . I
think I don’t know what to think . . .”

“That’s good, though,
right?”

“Yes, very good.”

“Okay, let’s go
inside. I’ll get the baby. You go ahead with your mom.”

“Wait, I thought you
said you built the house.”

“I did. It’s an exact
replica of the one that used to be here. The original home needed so much work
that it was more cost effective to tear it down and rebuild, but the house was
so beautiful that I only changed a few minor things.”

King reaches into the
back seat to help me out while Mama scurries up the steps to the porch. I
follow at a slower pace because a) I’m sore and b) I don’t want to be around
her without King. When I look back, King is sliding the car seat from its base
like a pro.

I stop and wait for
him to catch up, which takes all of three steps with his long legs. When he
reaches me, he leans over and kisses my forehead, nudging me to walk in front
of him.

Mama opens the door
with fanfare while I make my way up the steps onto the porch. To my right, a
porch swing softly sways in the breeze, and I imagine sitting there with
Juliette some afternoon in the summer, with the scent of the spring flowers
heavy in the air. I love this place already, and I haven’t even stepped inside.

When I do, there is a
cozy sitting room with a small fireplace and sofa right inside the front door.
At the far end of the room is the turret I saw from the driveway. In the center
of the circular area is a baby grand piano surrounded by floor to ceiling
windows that flood the room with warm natural light.
      

Next to the piano
is
a music stand and my violin, ready and waiting for me to
start practicing. I’ll bet Mama had a lot to do with that space. I only have
time to blink twice, and she’s already made her way over there, trailing her
hand along the keys of the piano.

“It’s beautiful,
isn’t it? The perfect place to practice.” The way she stands there, clasping
her hands together in front of her chest with her voice all breathy makes me
sick. I’m starting to really dislike my own mama.

King’s hand on my
elbow eases the tension building in my chest, but only a bit. He squeezes,
gently reminding me that I haven’t answered her.

“Yeah, Mama . . .
pretty.”

Her face falls for a
moment, but she recovers quickly . . . too quickly. It’s weird. She smiles a
wild smile and moves toward the back of the house.

“Let’s go look at the
kitchen,” she says with a quick hop and a clap.

She’s even more
bizarre than usual today. When I look at King, he shakes his head and gestures
for me to follow her. It’s hard to appreciate the beauty of the house when all
I can think about is Mama’s mental stability.

I’m going to do my
best to ignore Mama and pay close attention to the details that King put into our
house. There is a common color scheme of soft yellow and beige and different
shades of brown that flows into the kitchen and a more formal living room area
toward the back of the house. The kitchen is furnished with every modern
amenity, but they are included in a way that they don’t look out of place in a
classical Victorian home. I love the charming breakfast area and the French
doors that open onto a patio, where a swimming pool is covered with a thick
blue tarp.